


The Riot Act

by Maggiemaye



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, First Date Do-Over, Fluff, Protective Daddy Patrick, Schmoop, these PRECIOUS BABIES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/pseuds/Maggiemaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She reaches out to Patrick for a fist bump; his eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles. Toby curls his fingers around her other hand, and Happy hopes she can stretch her EQ a little more often if it will give her this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Riot Act

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished with my first Quintis! I am in love with these two adorkable babies, and I hope you enjoy my take on them. I'm still getting to know these characters, so any feedback/concrit/comments of any kind are eagerly welcomed. (Seriously, so eager. I'm like a puppy when it comes to responding to comments :) 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr (magnoliamagic.tumblr.com), where I like to tease story-related things :) Thank you so much for reading!

“He was supposed to pick you up at 7, right?”

Patrick pokes his head out from under the Camaro he’s working on. Happy looks down at her watch, then over at him.

“It’s 7:02, Dad. I think it’s a little early to worry.”

The words come out sounding tight, though. Happy refuses to relax until she sees Toby’s piece of crap vehicle pull up to her dad’s shop. Maybe not even then, if she’s honest.

“Well, you know I’m free tonight,” Patrick goes on, getting to his feet and peering out the window with her. “We can always go grab a burger or something if—“

“Dad, no offense, but if the Doc screws this up it’s gonna take more than a burger to make it better.”

He reaches out to pat her shoulder. “Okay, sweetheart.”

Happy only has a mild internal short-circuit at this gesture. The terms of endearment are new, strange yet oddly welcome, and she is trying to let down her shield in more ways than one. So far it’s easier with her dad than with Toby, although she’s made serious moves on _that_ front in the past few weeks.

First there had been the dance. Happy still can’t believe she had done a slow dance in public, surrounded by half-drunk college kids, while wearing a pink plaid skirt. Her job has become far, far weirder than what she’d signed up for. But all the weirdness of the day had been worth the look on Toby’s face when she’d taken his hands.

And then, of course, they had made out on the beach in front of the entire team, plus Ralph. As if she could forget that little detail.

But as it turns out, those moments had been the outliers. Letting down her shield had been easy for a total of about five minutes—the rest of the time, it’s dam(n) hard not to snap like a pit bull whenever Toby does something Toby-like. Such as holding her hand under the table during team dinners. Or petting her hair when they watch Netflix together on her couch. Or asking her if she would please, _please_ let him buy her dinner like a normal couple.

Tonight they are trying it again. It’s their first attempt at a real date since the Xanax Incident of 2014, and Happy still can’t quite believe she agreed to it. But here she is, waiting up for Toby once again. At least she isn’t in public this time, with an entire restaurant witnessing her humiliation. Maybe this is why she’d insisted he pick her up here at her dad's shop. If he lets her down again, she’d rather be surrounded by cars and power tools than fancy strangers.

But, she reminds herself, this is Toby. There’s no risk with him, not really. He may be a complete dweeb, but he has told her how he feels on multiple occasions. A big part of her admires him for the guts that must have taken; there’s no way she could drop the L-bomb so openly, even if she suspects she feels it ticking away inside her.

Idiotic but ballsy, indeed.

It’s 7:20 when he finally shows up. Happy has been silent and frozen for the past seventeen minutes, and when she sees him in his stupid hat and stupid puffy jacket she thinks she might combust.

“Hey!” he says brightly when she lets him in. “Sorry, traffic was murder, and I, unfortunately, don’t drive like a crazy person.”

“Maybe if you did, you would have been here on time.” She punches his arm and tries not to sound relieved to see him.

“Yeah yeah.” He leans down to kiss her lightly on the lips, just barely a brush. “So. Ready to go? You look great, by the way.”

He gives her that puppy-eyed grin that Happy absolutely _does not_ find adorable. She tugs at her jacket and ducks her head to hide the fact that she’s smiling like an idiot.

“Yeah, Doc. You still feeling Greek?”

“You remembered that?” He clutches his heart. “Aww, Happy, I’m touched.”

“Genius, remember? A decent memory kind of comes with the territory, dummy.”

“We had that conversation more than a year ago, and the fact that you remember it verbatim means it was significant to you. Therefore,” he taps her nose, “I am touched.”

“Whatever, numbnuts” she grumbles, but her tone does nothing to dim Toby’s smug grin. They turn toward the door, Toby’s hand resting between her shoulder blades, when Patrick’s voice stops them.

“Hang on a sec.”

Happy and Toby both turn, surprised. Patrick had made himself scarce when Toby had come to the door, but now he eyes Toby up, tossing a socket wrench from hand to hand. He isn’t smiling; in fact, Happy has to admit that she’s never seen him look so intimidating. “Maybe I want to have a chat before you take my daughter out.”

“What is happening?” Toby hisses out the side of his mouth. Happy shrugs in response.

“You’re the shrink, figure it out,” she mutters back.

“He’s _your_ dad!” Toby’s eyes are round as he turns to face Happy’s father, who has stopped right in front of him. Patrick is a little shorter, but his stony expression more than makes up for the size difference.

“Maybe,” Patrick goes on, “I want to know if your intentions are honorable.”

Happy is pretty sure she can see every drop of blood drain from Toby’s face.

“My…intentions?” he repeats, sounding horrified. “Wait. Are you talking about—“

“Well, where are you taking her, for starters?”

“Uh, we don’t exactly know yet—“

“You don’t know?” Patrick furrows his brow. “You want to take my daughter out on a date and you can’t even plan ahead of time?”

“We were keeping it casual!” Toby protests. “We agreed! Happy, tell him!”

“Kinda want to see you talk your way out of this one, Doc.” Happy tries to keep a straight face but it’s hard. She’s about eighty-five percent sure Patrick is joking around, but either way, Happy can’t decide if it’s the most awkward or the most hilarious thing she’s seen in a while.

“This is Happy Quinn we’re talking about,” Patrick goes on, getting right in Toby’s face. “Now, I might just be a grease monkey, but _she_ deserves the best. It’s a big responsibility as far as I’m concerned. I want to know that you’re worthy of it.”

“…Are you messing with me?” Toby squints into Patrick’s face as if it holds the secrets of the universe. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not. Which is not typical for me because of the shrink thing, obviously, but I’m weirdly nervous right now and I’m having an incredibly strong fight or flight reaction which really doesn’t help—“

“Just convince me you’re a decent guy. Not that hard.” 

“Okay.” Toby throws up his hands. “Mr. Quinn. I have shouted from the rooftops that I love Happy. So much. And I have spent the past year trying to prove to her that she can trust me. And if I have to spend that long proving it to you, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He looks so earnest as he concludes his little speech that Happy’s stomach lurches to look at him. She is reminded of that tingling feeling of _rightness_ on the beach, when he’d kissed her so hard she had practically bent in half. For the briefest of seconds she lets her tiny, limping EQ take control; it decides to reach out and brush the backs of her fingers against Toby’s.

Patrick, however, still doesn’t look impressed.

“Just know,” he says, “if you hurt my daughter, I’ve got no problem hurting you.”

“Dad.” Happy thinks it’s probably time for her to step in. “You know I’m almost thirty years old, right?”

And then, finally, she sees a glimmer of laughter in Patrick’s eye.

“Well then,” he says, winking, “I think it’s about time I embarrassed you in front of a date.”

Toby’s shoulders sag in relief.

“Holy _crap,”_ he says. “I thought you were going to kneecap me with that socket wrench for a minute.”

“Nah.” Patrick replies cheerfully. “If I was really going to threaten you, I’d do it with the blowtorch.”

“Well, that’s comforting. You know what? I’m definitely seeing the family resemblance now, Hap.”

She reaches out to Patrick for a fist bump; his eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles. Toby curls his fingers around her other hand, and Happy hopes she can stretch her EQ a little more often if it will give her this.

“Have her home by midnight!” Patrick calls as they walk out the door. Toby groans under his breath while Happy snorts out a laugh.  

“Your dad just grilled me,” he says in disbelief. “About my _intentions._ I feel like I’m about to take you to prom. Not that I would know what it feels like to go to prom, I was halfway through my residency at eighteen—“

“Toby.” Happy wraps her hands around his waist, under his jacket. It’s the quickest way to stop his babbling.

 _“Why_ is everyone interrupting me tonight?” he protests, but Happy can tell by the way he pulls her close that he isn’t actually complaining.

“Because you talk too much, duh. Also…” She stands up on tiptoe and presses her lips to his, so sweet it almost hurts. When she pulls back Toby looks like he’s been hit over the head, and she finally lets a grin spread wide across her face.

“I actually think I might be feeling Tex-Mex.”


End file.
